


Innocence

by budae_jiggae



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Corona doesn't happen, I Wish I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, Kid Fic, M/M, Pete is the nominee, im so sorry barron, otp: wait that's my word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26785399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/budae_jiggae/pseuds/budae_jiggae
Summary: There is no handbook when it comes to parenting a teenager on a campaign trail. Especially when said teenager exchanges gamer tags with the son of your opponent.
Relationships: Chasten Buttigieg/Pete Buttigieg
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've posted. I've had the idea of them having a son in my head for a while, and this was the only fic I was able to not get writers block on. I don't know much about how the backstage of the debates work, so I apologize if any of this is innacurate. I hope you enjoy :)

In September of 2017, when Chasten found out, as if straight out of a TV Drama, that he had a long-lost 11-year-old biological son, he was dissapointed to find out that there is no handbook.

He and Peter had been together for two years, were about half engaged, and suddenly had to decide if they were ready for a child. It was stressful and confusing, but they’d figured it out. At first, they kept him at arms’ length, making sure not to get too close. They’d help him, but they wouldn’t care for him. For some reason, Chasten felt as if his literal son got in the way of his dream of being a father. Looking back on it, Chasten can’t believe he ever felt that. Obviously, things changed, because it turns out Lancer was the most charming tweenager on the planet, and Pete and Chasten fell in love. They hadn’t had a handbook, but they’d figured it, and were now so happy to call that incredible young man their son.

They soon figured out that parenting, especially parenting a teenager, is difficult, no matter how that teenager came to be in your care. All the things that Peter and Chasten had heard about rebellion, anger, and drugs had proven pretty quickly to be untrue. The problem with Lancer was more internal- distrust, self-hatred, and anxiety. But, they’d figured out. It was incredible to watch Lancer change, going from the shy child that barely spoke to them, to the eccentric young man that trusted them wholeheartedly. As the layers of fear and distrust pealed back, they saw more of the teenageness they’d been warned of. He’d get frustrated and snap at them, or do something they didn’t want him to do, but he’d always feel guilty, and apologize. And they always told him that they forgave him, and they loved him, and that they were always there to help him figure out and control his emotions. They’d figured it out.

Of course, the campaign trail is a whole other obstacle for them and their son to figure out. It certainly doesn’t help that Lancer’s love language with his parents is clearly and undoubtably affectionate touch. Years of trauma had lead him to distrust, especially of men, and he was very hesitant to show or accept physical affection. His case-worker had told Pete and Chasten that they shouldn’t expect a cuddly teenager. Thankfully, Pete and Chasten made the smart choice of talking directly to Lancer about this, and they found that Lancer is _totally_ a cuddly teenager, he had just been yet to find anyone he trusted. It was difficult to find ways for him to still feel loved from hundreds of miles away. Pete and Chasten were both traveling, which meant that it didn’t take too many pulled strings for them to meet in one city for a night together. It took many, many pulled-strings for them to be able to go home to South Bend to see Lancer. It was easier before January, when Pete would often go back to South Bend for his Mayoral duties, and squeeze in a few minutes of time with Lancer. It was easier before Pete was the nominee, when Chasten could take a day to see their kid. Now that it was September, and they were nearly at the height of their race, time spent at home was few and far between.

Thankfully, with Lancer’s growth-spurt and changed-voice came a newly foud teenage-boy-esque confidence. Before, Lancer was terrified of anything having to do with the campaign, so he stayed for the most part at home. He went to only two debates, the Miama debate and the Las Vegas debate- he had a friendly conversation with Kamala Harris (who he said he liked a lot), a political conversation with Bernie Sanders (one of his idols), and a very awkward conversation with Joe Biden (it was the social anxiety). Other than that, he stayed home. After his growth-spurt, however, he began to passively tag along. He stuck with Anne for the most part- not going on stage or making himself known, instead staying in the audience. They got more time together - it was scarce, and spent mostly in hotel rooms, but it was time.

On the night of the first presidential debate, Chasten, Peter, and Lancer stood together in the prep room. They could hear the crowd settling in, and could tell it was almost time for Chasten and Lancer to go into the audience.

Chasten turned to his husband. “You ready?”

Pete smiled at him. “As always.”

“Great. Go kick his ass.”

They turned to their son. He was leaned against the wall, eyes on the floor, and unintentionally mimicking Peter’s classic one-arm-crossed-over-middle-other-hand-to-mouth look. Pete chuckled. “Lancer?”

Whatever world Lancer had been in, it certainly wasn’t Earth. Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to board his spaceship and come back. “Yeah?”

Pete chuckled again. “You ready to face the world?”

If he had been paying full attention, Lancer probably would have made a remark, but he was clearly only half way present (this was not at all unusual, so Chasten wasn’t worried). Lancer dropped his arms to his side and walked towards his Dads. Pete gave him a kiss on the head, then Chasten wrapped his arm around him, leading him out of the room.

As they were leaving, Lancer spoke; “Make us proud, Dad.” _Ah, yes, there was the sarcastic remark that Chasten had been expecting._

Pete chuckled. “You bet, Lance.”

“Lance” was a new nickname that Pete had started using. “Lancer” itself was not his real name, instead a name that Pete and Chasten had given to him. It had started as something they used only occasionally, but over time, it became what they used to refer to him. They rarely ever called him by his first name. His first name was something that many people, including so many former foster parents, had used to refer to him. “Lancer” was special, something only they used. He was their Lancer, the same way they were his Dads. Still, they had never called him “Lance”. It seemed strange to Chasten to have a nickname of a nickname. Normally, when they needed a one-syllable word for him, they used “babe”, or “hun”, or the ocasional “love”. But they had been in public together more often, and “hun” isn’t something most 14-year-olds want their friends to hear, so Pete had started using Lance (Chasten was yet to adopt it).

On their way to the audience, no one shook Lancer’s hand, thankfully. At the democratic debates, many people had shaken his hand, something Lancer had been very, very confused about (“The hell they want with me?” He had asked Chasten once they were sitting. “If I would known I was going to shake hands with 10 other candidates I would have practiced more.”). Lancer was very thankful that no one tried to shake his hand.

The debate was a wreck. Trump spewed his usual nonsense - shit that made zero sense. Pete couldn't get through more than ten words without being interrupted. Chasten loved that Pete simply wasn’t having it. Ten minutes into the debate, Pete would laugh - literally laugh, on stage - while Trump was spewing bullshit. It was incredible. Lancer especially got a kick out of it, and Chasten could hear him quietly laughing along. At one point, Lancer said quietly into Chasten’s ear- “I’m suprised Trump hasn’t used a gay slur yet.” Chasten chuckled. He was surprised, too.

After the trainwreck of the debate, Chasten went onstage to congratulate his husband, Lancer at his side. Normally, after the hugs, this would be when Lancer would chat with the other candidates, who were often excited to meet a young man interested in politics. Thankfully, Lancer and Trump did not try to talk to each other.

They were on the ground now, mingling with audience members. Someone had come up to talk to them, but Chasten quickly realized that he wasn’t really apart of the conversation. He looked around, trying not to seem to invasively present, when he noticed Lancer was no longer at his side. He was about to slightly panic when he heard Lancer’s voice, probably about six feet away.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

Chasten turned and saw Lancer, standing in front of Barron Trump.

It was clear that Lancer had not started the conversation, and was instead responding to something Barron had said. Though he’d gained confidence, Lancer was still painfully shy, particularly around guys his age, and especially around the son of his father’s opponent (also the First Son of the United States, which is, you know, kind of big deal). The height difference between the two of them was almost comical. Lancer was almost as tall as Pete (something he was very, very proud of), and had almost started to consider himself tall, but seeing him infront of Barron was laughable. Barron must have been around 6’4, or something close. 5’8 suddenly didn’t seem so tall.

Chasten could see the awkwardness between the two of them, and could almost see Lancer mentally running through his social-interaction protocol: _Do I shake hands?_ _I’m not used to interacting with people my own age._ Lancer decided on reaching his hand out, to which Barron accepted.

A few years ago, Chasten had watched as Pete had taught Lancer how to deliver a nice, firm, confident handshake. This was not any of those. Well, it was nice. It seemed almost _too_ nice, as if both boys were afraid of shattering each other’s hands, or offending the other.

_Perhaps Barron isn’t as evil as his father._

There was some more silence. Barron awkwardly put his hands in his pockets. Lancer dug his nails into the back of the other hand (as he often did when nervous), and Chasten knew that he was trying his absolute hardest to not to make eye contact while also not seeming rude. Just as Chasten was about to go rescue Lancer, Barron spoke again.

“…Do you play Fortnite?”

Chasten had to stop himself from laughing outloud. It was such a ridiculous thing to ask in a political setting, but it was also so incredibly innocent. For a second, they seemed like two regular 14-year-old-boys, just trying to make friends.

“Sometimes, yeah,” Lancer answered. “I’m not very good though.”

This, Chasten knew, was a complete lie. Lancer hated Fortnite. Chasten decided he’d let it slide, and not give Lancer another lesson on _not changing yourself for other people_ (he'd already had many, many lessons on this topic). 

“What about MineCraft?” Barron asked.

“Yeah.” That was not a lie.

“Cool.”

There was more silence.

“Do you play online?”

“Sometimes,” said Lancer.

“…could I have your username?” Lancer nodded.

At this point, Pete’s conversation had ended. He and Chasten looked to each other. “Are we supposed to do something about this?” Pete asked quietly, making sure Lancer couldn’t hear them.

“I’m not sure,” said Chasten. “They’re just, you know, being kids, right?’

Pete nodded. "Innocence... don't see much of that anymore."

Barron took out his phone, and Lancer, clearly unsure, followed. Barron asked Lancer for his username, to which Lancer responded, and then Barron gave him his. After Barron typed, they put their phones away, and there was some more awkward silence.

“So, uh, play together sometimes?” Lancer asked, quietly.

“Sure,” said Barron. There was another awkward moment before Barron, seeming unsure, reached out his hand. Lancer shook it, they smiled at each other, and then Lancer came back over to Chasten and Pete.

Lancer smiled awkwardly, and Chasten could tell that he was uneasy, and questioning how they would react.

They didn’t say anything related for a while. On their way to the hotel, they chatted about the politics aspect of the debate. Pete complained about how Trump wouldn’t let him talk.

When they reached the hotel building, it was clear they had run out of political conversation. Chasten felt as if he should bring up the interaction with Barron and Lancer, however, he knew better than to do it in front of Anne. Lancer had no problem with Anne, but was yet to reach a closeness with his grandparents that he had with his Dads. He had been close with Joe, and was getting closer with Sherri, but was still only “comfortable” around Anne, and was also still a bit afraid of Terry, no matter how much Chasten told him he didn’t have to be.

Once the three of them were alone in their hotel room, Chasten could see the tiredness that both Pete and Lancer had been hiding, and Chasten felt his own tiredness set in. Lancer sat down on the bed, rubbing his eyes, as Pete and Chasten moved around the room to grab their pajamas.

“You gonna change, Lancer?” Chasten asked. Lancer, once again, had been elsewhere, so deep in thought, as he always seemed to be. He nodded vaguely and slowly stood, walking towards his small bag.

After changing into pajamas, the three of them settled on the larger bed, Lancer between his parents. They didn’t share a bed when they slept, but they were used to lying together - above of the covers - as their family time at the end of the day. If they felt like they had time, they would watch something. However, on nights like these, when they all knew they’d fall asleep soon, they just lied together, Lancer cuddled up against the two of them, on their phones and making small conversation of whatever they chose.

Lancer laid half-asleep, with his head on Chasten’s shoulder and his arm wrapped around Chasten’s, as Pete and Chasten talked quietly to each other. Their conversation was interrupted by a ding of Lancer’s phone, which, in the quiet room, seemed loud in contrast. Lancer rubbed his eyes and unintangled his arm from Chasten’s, reaching into his pocket and checking his phone. Almost instinctively, Chasten looked over to see what was on the screen, then, reminding himself how invasive that was, looked away and asked, “what is it?”

Lancer took a small breath. “…a message.”

“From who?”

Lancer bit his lip and stayed silent.

“Hey,” said Pete, and Chasten could see Lancer’s shoulders tenses. Pete, in response, put his hand on Lancer’s shoulder, lightly stroking his thumb to try and calm him. “I saw you talking to Barron.”

Lancer took another breath. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Pete, his voice calm and gentil, and trying to convince Lancer it was true.

Lancer clearly wasn’t convinced that Pete actually thought it was okay, and that Pete wasn’t mad. He started to explain himself more; “I just thought... we don’t know who he is. He could be a completely different person. He could be-“

“Lancer,” said Pete. “I trust you.”

Finally, Lancer let out a long breath. He layed back down, this time cuddling up to Peter, resting his head on the front of Pete’s shoulder. Chasten turned on his side, putting his arm around Lancer’s upper arm, and for a while the world was quiet.

“…It’s time to go to bed, Lancer.” Peter said after a while. Lancer gave no response except the small purr that meant he was half way to sleep.

“I should wake him up,” said Chasten.

Pete looked down at Lancer and sighed. “In a minute.”

One thing that nobody had told Chasten while he was becoming a parent is that when you have a child, no matter the age, they don’t stop being cute. Chasten looked over at his absolutely adorable sleeping child. “In a minute,” he agreed, and let his eyes fall closed again. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I'd definitely like to write more fics with Lancer if anyone's interested. I'm sorry about how long it was, I was trying to get in Lancer's backstory so it made a bit of sense lol. Let me know what y'all think :)


End file.
